


Quench Timestamps

by verbaeghe



Series: Quench [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Tampa Bay Lightning, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10617450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/pseuds/verbaeghe
Summary: Various timestamps from the Quench universe that are directly related to the original story.Chapter one: Witty and Slater have a little talk (Rated T)Chapter two: Slater prepares himself to go out for the evening (Please note the rating change) (Rated E)Chapter three:  Slater has a talk with Jo, which leads to a talk with Braydon (Rated T)





	1. Witty can't believe this shit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lecavayay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lecavayay/gifts).



> The whole conversation that Braydon only heard part of before he jumped to conclusions in [chapter five](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8621614/chapters/20444773) of [(Not) Just A One Night Stand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8621614/chapters/19769293)

"Hey, buddy. How are you doing?" Witty asked, walking into the trainer's room.

Slater looked up at him, grimacing slightly when Tommy poked at just the wrong spot. "It's fine, I'll be fine.”

"You aren't fine," Tommy said absently, heading for the door.

"I will be in like a day," Slater huffed but Tommy was already gone

"You _hope_ you will be," Witty offered.

"Well, yeah, of course." Slater smirked. "I should have known they'd call your raggedy ass up."

Witty flipped him off with a sneer and Slater managed a small laugh. "I wasn't really asking about your ankle, though.”

"I figured."

"Have you seen him since...?" Witty wiggled his hand and shrugged instead of finishing his question.

"No," Slater said, frowning. "He wasn't on the ice when it happened and I wasn't in the locker room for the game the next day... and today is the first day back from the break, which, you know, is also a game day."  

"He wasn't on the ice after treating you like shit?" Witty crossed his arms. "He was hiding from you? What a wuss, man."

"Don't talk about him like that!" Slater snapped. "He didn't treat me like shit."

"And you're still defending him? Really? How can you be defending him?"

"He's." Slater paused, wanting to choose his words carefully. "When I was younger and I looked up to him he seemed like he was so perfect and his play was everything I wanted to pattern my own game after. I know now that I was just projecting onto him because I was a kid and that's what you do with your heroes... but it turns out that he's so much more. He's stronger than I ever could have actually imagined. The stuff he goes through on a daily basis is just...I don't even know how he handles it all."

"Oh, fuck me. You actually love him." Witty shook his head in disbelief.

"Yeah, I do," Slater said, nodding.

"Okay, but seriously? Didn't he just blow you off again a few days ago?"

"No, it wasn't like that!" Slater sighed. "I know what it looks like, but there's stuff I can't tell you. It isn't my place. I probably shouldn't have told you about it at all."

"Who am I gonna to tell?."

"It isn't that I don't trust you, it's just..." Slater threw his arms up in frustration. "I can't say some things so I shouldn't have said anything."

"This is too much drama for me." Witty shook his head and laughed. "But seriously, this seems like a lot of shit to go through for someone that keeps pushing you away. Why haven't you already moved on?” Witty asked.

"There's a lot of reasons. Some are little, like how he's funny without really trying. When he smiles, and I mean really smiles, his eyes crinkle in the cutest way." Slater sighed happily. "And he's smokin' hot. That part really helps." Slater smirked, adding, "His body is amazing. Even his shoulder freckles turn me on."

"Okay, okay." Witty held his hands up. "Jesus, I'm sorry I asked."

"Don't ask things you don't want to know," Slater sing-songed.

"I won't be asking about him again," Witty said, glancing at the clock. "Well, I better go, since I have to play tonight in place of your lazy ass."

"Fuck you, man," Slater laughed.

"Sorry, my eyes don't crinkle," Witty responded, heading for the door.


	2. Slater prepares himself to go out for the evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This timestamp takes place directly before and into the first chapter of [(Not) Just A One Night Stand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8621614)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This specific chapter is for lecavayay, but I can't seem to gift just a chapter, so she gets the whole thing. ♥

Slater looked around his hotel room and sighed. The Powers That Be hadn’t complained that he’d arrived early last week. They’d viewed it as a positive, that he wanted to show that he was ready to play at the NHL level and arrived early so he could prove it. He’d even gotten a single room out of it.

They weren’t wrong, he desperately wanted to prove he was ready, to show them that he could be counted on in the lineup every night. But also, he really needed to find and fuck some rando so he didn’t jump Braydon Coburn when he saw him in a week when training camp started. That wasn’t something he could really do back home, so.

He opened his laptop and pulled up Google. 

//

Slater studied his hair in the mirror while he waited for the shower to warm up. He’d had it cut a littler shorter than he usually went for, but it did make him look older at least. Besides, Florida was hot as hell, literally, and he planned on sticking around. 

His eyes shifted in the mirror, his gaze falling on the lube and small set of plugs that were sitting on the bed behind him. Slater’s dick gave a small twitch of anticipation before he headed into the bathroom, dropping articles of clothing along the way. 

//

Slater laid on his bed after his shower, towel wrapped haphazardly around his hips. He needed to get himself ready, avoiding the intimacy of someone else doing it for him later,  but he knew he was going to think about Braydon Coburn while he did it. He always seemed to think of him. 

Which he didn’t really want to do, since the whole point was to…to  _ not _ ...but some things just weren’t that easy to quit doing. Not when he’d been fantasizing about him since the age of fifteen. 

Not his best idea in retrospect, but it was too late to worry about it. 

Slater tried to push the current train of thought out of his mind by lubing up a finger. He dipped his hand down, tracing a small, teasing circle, a little hiss breaking the stillness of the room when he pressed inward. He almost lived for the light sting of the initial penetration because it was grounding, made it feel  _ real _ .  

His mind shifted back to Braydon and how he’d looked last time Slater had seen him. All bearded and tired and disappointed that they hadn’t won. Slater had wanted to talk to him so badly, wanted to tell him how much he loved his style of play and...well, it didn’t matter because by the time he’d stopped waxing poetically in his head about curls, eyes, and...just...how much  _ better _ he looked up close in person, and got around to working up the courage to talk to him, he’d already left the building. 

He tried to shift back to the task at hand, adding a second finger while blindly searching out one of the plugs. He thought about how big Braydon Coburn’s hands were, what it would feel like if they were preparing him; two of those large fingers sliding in and out of him, a free hand gripping his hip tightly. 

“Fuck, it would feel so good,” Slater muttered to himself, slipping the plug in slowly, moaning through the stretch, his mind on Braydon leaving light finger-shaped bruises on him.

He was so worked up, so hard from thinking about the man of his dreams and his fucking  _ hands _ , that he was on the verge of wrapping his own around his dick, getting himself off and calling it a night. He stopped and breathed through it though, because he... _ needed _ . He needed something other than his own hand. He needed to be underneath someone, work up a sweat, feel the ache the next morning. 

Slater tried to push the thought of broad shoulders and reddish, curly hair from his mind again, going to back to slowly working the plug in. He knew it was going to brush at his prostate the whole time it was in, that he was going to be half hard all night long, but it was worth dealing with if it meant he’d be able to get to the real fucking sooner rather than later.

//

Slater wandered around Quench a bit. He was enjoying the sights and sounds of the bar even though he was feeling more than a shade on the edge. It wasn’t any more smokey than any other bar, so it had that going for it anyway. No one caught his attention by the time he finished his second loop around the floor, so he decided to participate in the pool tournament despite the constant reminding press of the plug urging him to get a move on already. 

The first game passed by pretty quickly; he won with relative ease. The second one was a little more of a challenge, but he still managed to win with a handful of his opponent's balls still sitting on the table. 

Slater leaned over to line up his shot in his third game when he happened to glance up...and his heart started racing, his mouth running dry when he saw who was standing there. Braydon Fucking Coburn was right next to the table, raising a small glass to his lips, watching him play. 

It wasn’t a trick of the light or wishful thinking, it was really him...and he clearly noticed that Slater had spotted him. He looked a bit panicked, so Slater quickly schooled his features, curling his mouth into his best smirk (the one he knew was capable of turning  _ anyone’s _ head) and took his shot, hoping that he’d lined it up well enough to sink it.  

The ball fell easily and Braydon looked like he might be impressed. Slater was so sure that Braydon was about to say something that he straightened quickly, swallowing a gasp when the plug shifted.  But then some asshole bumped into Braydon, spilling brown liquor down the front of his shirt. He frowned, watching as Braydon rushed off, tenting his shirt away from his body.

Holy shit. Braydon’s body.

_ Holy shit. Braydon was gay! _

Losing track of him now, when he was  _ so close _ , just wouldn’t do. Slater placed his cue stick down on the felt. “I forfeit.”

There was a bit of grumbling but he paid it no mind, heading for the bar to order a drink and wait for Braydon to reappear. 

//

  
Slater had always thought that he had a pretty good imagination, but it turned out that it was no match for how it actually felt to be fucked by Braydon.


	3. One talk leads to another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This timestamp takes place in between the first and second scene of [Chapter Three](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8621614/chapters/19972816) of (Not) Just A One Night Stand

Slater walked into the locker room and took a look around. It was half empty, guys were still showering, getting treatment, and whatever else they did after games...but the general mood was still pretty upbeat.

Slater figured it should be after an overtime win.

His eyes fell to Braydon, who was smiling faintly at him settled in the stall next to his own. Slater fought of the urge to scowl as he looked away; it was bad enough that Braydon was still in the closet, but letting himself to be set up with women? Snapping at Slater for _daring_ to ask about it? And then he thought he could just...smile at Slater like nothing happened?

Slater shook the thought away, reluctantly sitting down.  

“Hey, you looked great out there tonight,” Braydon said.

Slater pulled his jersey over his head and tossed it to the waiting bin at the side of the room. “Thanks.” he replied. He started to loosen his laces.

“Is...what’s wrong?” Braydon sounded confused, and Slater couldn’t even believe him.

He paused, glancing up at Braydon and raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

Braydon grimaced. “Look, Slater-”

“Hey!” Jo came to a stop in front of them. “A group of us are going out to celebrate the win, wanna come?”

Braydon shot Jo a sharp look. “We’re sort of-”

“It can wait. Let’s go.” Jo smirked at Slater. “Maybe we can find you a boy for the night.”

Braydon visibly tensed. Slater chewed on his bottom lip, pondering both Jo’s invite and Braydon’s reaction. He smiled up at Jo as he came to a decision. “Count me in.”

“Great!” Jo beamed at him then turned to Braydon. “How about you, old man?”

Braydon frowned, mumbled something while he hung his skates, and walked out of the room.

“I guess that's a no.” Jo laughed, turning back to Slater. “Hurry up and get ready, slowpoke.”

“I will,” Slater shook his foot, kicking off his skate while he gathered his things so he could head for the showers.

 //

“He isn’t that old you know,” Slater picked at the label on his beer bottle before looking up and around at the noisy bar as an excuse to not focus on Jo.

“Who, Coby?” Jo shook his head, laughing as he tipped his bottle to his lips. “He totally is, man.”

“No, he isn’t.” He finally glanced over at Jo, who was way too amused, in Slater’s opinion. Slater started on a new label corner, still not drinking his beer. “He passes that stupid rule of yours.”

“First of all, it isn’t _my_ rule,” Jo smirked at him. “And second, he won’t pass it until your birthday.”

“It’s close enough,” Slater muttered, finally taking a sip of his beer, which was already warm. He made a face at it.

“That isn’t how rules work, really.” Jo turned and scanned the room. “Now, let’s get your mind off of him.”

“I don’t want-”

“What about that guy?” Jo pointed with his head. Slater sighed and glanced that direction.

“Too short.”

“But he’s like your height,” Jo frowned at Slater.

“Yep, which is too short for me to find attractive.” Slater shrugged. “And anyway-”

“Okay, that guy then.”

Slater made a little annoyed sound before reluctantly looking the direction Jo was not so subtly pointing. He looked at the guy, who was smiling in their direction, then shook his head. “Not broad enough, and he’s got his eye on you, not me.”

“What?” Jo snapped his head over at the guy, who smiled and raised his glass. Jo smiled weakly at him then looked back to Slater.

“What’s the matter, not your type?” Slater asked innocently.

“We aren’t here for me,” Jo dismissed. Slater cocked a little half-smile at his beer bottle, almost amused by the deflection. “Okay, how about that guy?”

“Doesn’t have curls.”

“That one?”

“Can’t grow body hair to save his life.”

“That’s a thing for you?” Jo asked, incredulous. Slater looked at him, making a little ‘duh’ gesture in reply. “Are you going to take _anyone_ from here tonight?”

“Nope.”

“Then why did you even come?” Jo put down his beer, tossing his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh, dramatic,” Slater rolled his eyes. “And you know why I came.”

“Just to make him jealous.”

Slater nodded, starting to take a drink of his beer before remembering it was warm. He made another face at it, setting it down and pushing it away. He huffed again and looked up at Jo.

“Jesus Christ, do you...love... _him_?”

“Of course I do,” Slater snapped.

“Okay, but maybe it’s just your...you know, the idol thing?”

 “It stopped being hero worship about three months ago, Jo.”

 "Are you sure? How?” Jo pressed.

 "Isn’t that my business?” Slater made a face. “Or did you really want to know all the obnoxious things he does that I like him in spite of?”

“Well, actually, I don’t think I need to hear that…” Jo trailed off, searching the room - probably for his Stammer stand-in for the night. He found what he was looking for, then looked back to Slater.

“Look, if he’s that important to you, you should talk to him, not go out pretending you’re going to pick-up because you’re trying to make him jealous.”

“You’re one to talk,” Slater countered.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t a hypocrite,” Jo answered with a little wink. Slater watched him stand. “Seriously, Slater. Don’t sit here and be miserable. Go.”

Jo drained his beer before he turned and left without another word. Slater watched him go, mostly to see where he was heading...and, yep. Stammer stand-in, for sure.

Slater asked for the bill when the server came by to check on him.

 //

Slater took one look at the taxi line and decided that maybe a walk back would do him good. It wasn’t very far to the hotel, and he could use the time to clear his head anyway.

It wasn’t long, unfortunately, before his conversation with Jo started creeping into his head. He didn’t think that Braydon was too old, and he did love him, but what could he hope to actually have with a guy who was buried so deep in the closet that he was letting people set him up with women?

And what right did he have getting mad about Slater going out to hook up? Like he wasn’t going out on dates with other people. No, with _women_ . Slater sniffed and scrubed hard at his face, trying to will himself keep his emotions in check. He wasn’t going to cry over the fact that Braydon apparently didn’t want to be seen in public with _him_ but would go out with women.

_He wasn’t._

On the other hand, Jo had also said that he should talk to Braydon, and there were all those little things Braydon did, like the touching thing. Braydon was always touching him way more than he did with the other guys. And, what about those small, sweet smiles that seemed like they were just for him? They had to count for something, right?

But what if they didn’t? What if it was all just wishful thinking on his part?

Slater sighed when he arrived at the hotel. He spent a minute trying to sort his thoughts while he watched the revolving door spin.

“Fucking Toronto,” he muttered when he heard camera shutters going off a few feet away. It wasn’t even like he was someone important. He rolled his eyes and headed inside.

Slater crossed the lobby, heading for the elevators while debating and rejecting stopping at the desk to ask for Braydon’s room number about a dozen times along the way. He pushed the call button, then stood there and chewed on his bottom lip while he waited for it to arrive.

The elevator finally dinged its arrival about a minute later and the doors opened to reveal Stammer, who looked displeased for some reason. Great. Slater quickly checked his phone even though he knew he was in way ahead of curfew.

"Hey, weren’t you with Jo?” Stammer asked when Slater stepped into the elevator.

“Uh, yeah, but he stayed behind.” Stammer looked even more mad at that news.

“Okay, thanks,” he said, walking out of the elevator, retracing the path that Slater had just traveled but at a much quicker pace.

Seeing Stammer going after Jo helped him make up his mind. He placed a hand on the door to keep it open. “Hey, Stammer? Do you know where Coby’s room is?”

“He’s right beside me, room 718. Why?”

“I just wanted to run something by him if he’s still up. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Stammer turned away and Slater knew that their conversation was already pushed from his mind. Slater remembered that he didn’t mention the assholes outside the hotel right after the doors slipped closed.

Oh well.

Slater stepped out of the elevator on the 7th floor and paused, wanting to give himself a minute to get his bearings and also one last chance to give up on the whole thing and just go to his own room and try to start putting everything behind him.

But then he realized that room 718 was hardly five feet away.      

He stepped up to the door, taking a deep breath and knocking. He was just getting ready to knock again when the door finally opened, revealing Braydon, frowning at him. "I thought you were going out tonight?"  
  
"I just need to talk to you."


End file.
